A Night At Villa Villekulla
by Manchester
Summary: A sequel to 'The Girl at Villa Villekulla.' Xander is asked to spend the night, and he didn't have the heart to say no, considering how hopeful the little girl looked at the thought of an actual guest in her lonely house.
1. Chapter 1

Xander Harris had been known to nap through apocalypses, so it was no surprise he continued his peaceful slumber through what that man, if awake, would have described as 'a really bitchin' storm.' The severe thunderstorm currently shaking the Swedish villa had been identified by his subconscious as nothing to be worried about. On the other hand, the small figure creeping up towards the man lying on a rickety sofa under a hastily-gathered heap of blankets, sheets, and towels had been instantly sensed when it had paused in the doorway of the sitting room to stare at the unmoving figure there in his bed.

Now fully awake, but keeping his eye closed and maintaining his deep, even breathing through his nose, Xander continued to feel the merest touch of a breeze on his face from the moving air currents sent ahead by whatever that was cautiously approaching. Most people would have just thought it was a draft in the room, or simply ignored this faintest wind in their sleep. The immobile man, in his shorts on his back and holding a sharpened stick in his right hand under the bedding, wasn't most people. For starters, there was the whole lifetime for him in Sunnydale, including the seven years with the Slayer that included such minor events as being possessed by an Alpha hyena spirit. Not to mention a couple more years in Africa, where other humans had proven themselves to be just as dangerous as the most aggressive demon.

Waiting with deadly predator patience, Xander felt the minuscule flow of air on his face persist and also grow the least bit stronger, indicating his intruder was almost within striking range. Well, sure, for them, but for him, too. Xander tried his other senses for any new information about his opponent, only to have no luck. His eye was still closed, the raging storm outside battered his ears with its thunder, and he couldn't smell anything but dust and a strong odor of horse. The New Council troubleshooter wasn't all that surprised by the latter aroma, since that animal had undoubtedly been ridden into every downstairs room in the villa by that equine's cheerful owner.

A sudden, worrisome thought now accompanied that reflection, making Xander instantly change his plans, to instead perform the fastest sit-up of his life, his upper body jerking forward and up, throwing the bedding out of the way and freeing his weapon, but simply holding the stake ready rather than striking out with it, as the man snapped open his remaining eye to look directly at the small figure standing at the foot of the sofa.

At that very moment, the biggest flash of lightning yet illuminated the entire inside of the house, flooding the room with a harsh light, followed right after by a tremendous BOOOOOMMMM! that deafened Xander while he stared into a wide-open mouth that must have been uttering a loud shriek of pure fright, as a little girl in her nightgown and having absolute terror on her face now jumped forward with all the strength in her legs, sailing through the air to dive right at Xander, who barely had enough time to shove his stake out of the way down in the sofa cushions, before Pippi Longstocking smashed fully into him, sending him flat on his back, as she desperately wrapped her skinny arms around his chest. In the next second, all four fragile legs of the sofa finally gave way under this unasked-for punishment, sending that piece of furniture crashing down onto the floor, and raising billows of dust in the room.

Several moments later, a laboring voice managed to gasp out fairly kindly enough, considering the circumstances, "Pippi - Pippi! Relax, will you? I can't breathe, honey!" That suffocated appeal resulted in a fractional lessening of Pippi's robust clutch around him, allowing Xander a bit more air, though she refused to lift her head up from where it was pressed against his neck under the man's left jaw, and when the next immense clap of thunder came, the little girl lying next to him on the sofa shook hard enough so the man also felt his own body tremble.

"Hey, now, hey, now," Xander crooned comfortingly, as he stroked Pippi's loose red hair with his right hand, keeping his left arm curled around her thin shoulders that continued to shiver every time there came a new rumble of atmospheric disturbance from the skies. His worried look down at the Swedish girl's head then slowly changed into a thoughtful expression, as Xander stared ahead into the occasional lightning flashes that lit up the room, which soon became a wide grin upon the man's face.

Clearing his throat, and waiting until the last thunderclap died away, Xander now said in a very irritated tone, "Honey, for two cents, I'd get up there and tell the guys in their cloudships to stop firing off their cannons and go somewhere else with all that racket. But, you know pirates. They won't pay the slightest bit of attention to me, even when I'm supposed to be their ruler."

A few disbelieving seconds later, Pippi's head stirred, and she lifted that part of her body up, with glistening tear-tracks shown down her cheeks, but with the girl looking with pure astonishment directly into Xander's right eye, while incredulously asking, "_What?_"

Whipping up his right index finger to hold it pressed vertically against his lips, the man with an eyepatch hissed, "Shhhh!" His gaze then darted from right to left in an obvious search for eavesdroppers, as Xander then leaned his own head closer to a bewildered girl, whispering to her, "I was gonna keep it quiet, honey, but you might as well know my secret. I'm the King of the Pirates."

"What- Why- _King of the Pirates?_"

"Yup," firmly nodded Xander, who now grinned at Pippi staring open-mouthed at the man she still had her arms tightly around, as they laid together on the collapsed sofa. However, she then relaxed her grip some more, and encouraged, the Sunnydale survivor said in a confiding tone, "Would you like to hear all about it? I have to say, it's a story and a half!"

As if to mark those last words, another lightning flash and an accompanying clap of thunder came, but this time, Pippi didn't seem to notice, as a timorous smile now appeared on her lips, while she eagerly nodded.

"Okay, then. It all started when-"

* * *

Author's Note: Yes, I know the books say that Pippi Longstocking isn't afraid of anything, but, hey, come on! She's a nine-year-old girl on her own, and thunderstorms are something she can't lift over her head and spin around with her hands, scare off, make fun of, or throw gold coins at this. So, I figured she'd both be frightened by that type of violent weather, and also too ashamed to admit this to anyone.


	2. Chapter 2

I pushed aside the palm tree leaf and stepped out in the clearing, getting my first look at what I'd been searching for, the small town known as Pirate Village on the Caribbean island of Lotsamoolah. On the shores of a sheltered bay, numerous small houses, shops, taverns, other buildings, and a wharf with several sailing ships tied up against this stood peacefully in the warm tropical day. However, the most striking thing about that place were the pirates.

Going around their daily business, there were thin pirates, fat pirates, tall pirates, short pirates, bald pirates, hairy pirates, very hairy pirates - well, there were a lot of pirates, every one of them talking and shouting and arguing and yelling, all in a proper piratical fashion. Heading along the beach towards the town, I passed two pirates standing together out in the gentle surf and soaking their bare feet in the simmering-blue waters, while holding a friendly conversation among themselves.

"Good morning, matey! Aaargh!"

"Same to you, my good man! Aaargh! I think we might have rain later today! Aaargh!"

"Wouldn't be surprised at all! Aaargh!" Have you seen- AAAARRRGHH!"

"Now, that was a proper 'Aaargh!' Would you care to follow up on that, belike? Aaargh!"

"A BLASTED CRAB'S GOT ME BY MY BIG TOE! AAARGH!"

"Nasty-looking customer, isn't it? Aaargh! Would you like me to do something about that? Aaargh!"

"If you wouldn't mind, thankee! Aaargh!"

"Hold still, then, and I'll give that sea beastie a good whack with my cutlass! Aaargh!"

"AAAARRRGHH!"

"Ooops. Aaargh."

"Oh, that's all right, it was my gouty toe, so that son-of-a-sea-cook can scuttle off with it! Aaargh! Do you think the surgeon's open this early? Aaargh!"

"Why don't we go and find out? Aaargh! Now, just put your arm around my shoulders, and you can hop along on your other foot-"

I left that conversation behind me as I walked down the main (and only) street of Pirate Village, until at the center of the town, I came to a large square with more shops around the edges of that open space, and in the exact middle of the square, there was a big, chunky wooden chair with a large umbrella attached to the back of this chair to provide some shade from the sun for whoever sat there. However, at this exact moment, there was no need for the umbrella, since the chair remained unoccupied.

As I looked around, more pirates began to enter the square from the street and also coming out of the shops, standing around talking to each other, as they clearly waited for something to take place. I pulled a sheet of paper out of my pants pocket, and checked my notes again, until I was nudged by a big pirate stumping on his way past me, skillfully balancing on his right peg leg with the help of his crutch, as the parrot on his shoulder occasionally fluttered its wings in an attempt to keep their balance. Finally, that bird flew off and away from its owner, to land with flapping feathers on top of a branch in the small tree next to where I was standing.

I blinked, as the parrot just a yard away preened itself for a few seconds, to then lift its head and stare evilly right at me, with its very beady eyes. Without actually thinking about it, I said, "Hello, Poll-"

Still glaring at me, the parrot opened its large, sharp beak, and then it said in a very scratchy voice, "You were going to call me Polly, weren't you, you hairless ape?"

In my sudden daze, I managed to stutter out an answer, "Uh, yeah-"

"Figures. Homo sapiens sapiens, my tail feathers! Don't any of you idiots ever consider the fact that I might actually have a name of my own? Sir, you are in the presence of Englebert DuQuesne the Fourth, but does anybody even bother to use it? Oh, no, it's always Polly, Polly, Polly! Quite frankly, I'm getting sick of it and seriously considering biting off some human's ear!" The parrot's menacing gaze now shifted to the left side of my head, apparently estimating the distance and flight time to that part of my body.

I clapped my left hand over that ear and took a cautious step back, as the parrot continued his rant. "Plus, people are always offering me crackers, without even thinking about what all that fiber does to me! I feel like I've got a cork shoved up there! Let me tell you, the first time I get my beak in a nice, juicy mango, I'm gonna decorate the entire back of my owner's shirt! Sheesh, a species develops opposable thumbs, and they suddenly think they're the Lords of Creation. Bah to all of you, anyway."

The parrot then abruptly flew away from his perch in the tree, grumpily squawking to himself while flapping across the square until he suddenly descended among the crowd of pirates, presumably returning to someone who later on was going to have an truly impressive laundry bill. I gaped after that bird, all while vowing to myself that as soon as possible, I was going to buy the biggest hat I could find.

I guess I must have looked pretty silly there with my mouth open, since I then heard an amiable voice having an Irish lilt in it coming from my blind side, "'Tis as plain as the eyepatch on your face, that you've met Englebert. Pay no attention to the laddie's threats, he's naught but a big talker."

Twisting around to look at who'd just said that, I saw a short, chubby pirate standing there, with a bulbous nose, red cheeks, and twinkling eyes peering at me over half-moon spectacles. From his white side-whiskers, he was older than most of the other pirates, which was confirmed, when I blurted out, "Hey, aren't you going to say 'Aaargh!'?"

Giving me an odd look, the mature pirate seemed to come to some kind of decision, as he now good-naturedly shrugged, answering, "Er, that's more the style for the younger gentlemen, fine corsairs be they, one and all. Still, I ken ye are a newcomer to our lovely village. Might I be of assistance to ye?"

"Uh, yeah," I said, sneaking another peek at my notes. "Every day, at noon, you guys have a meeting in the town square to discuss any business, right?"

"Oh, aye. 'Tis commanded by any o' the captains currently in port, willing to carry out the duty, and reasonably sober. And aren't ye the most fortunate of men today, for it's me own captean that'll be sittin' on the throne there," finished the Irish pirate in his suddenly-thick accent, nodding towards the empty seat in the middle of the square.

"Throne? You mean he's the King of the Pirates?" I worriedly asked, maybe showing a little too much anxiety in that last question. Fortunately, the sudden roar of laughter coming from the pirates around us that had been listening to our conversation distracted anybody from thinking about this.

In fact, the native son of Eire I'd been talking to was the one who laughed the loudest, happily wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes, as he confided to me, "Oh, that was most grand of ye, laddie, givin' me a proper craic. Nay, nay, 'tis a manner of speakin'. The only way we buccaneers will ever have a proper king rulin' from that seat is if each and every one of us contrary fellows declares that we'll have him as our leader - and _that _will only happen when the sun rises in the north, every blade of grass in the land turns purple, and all the priests swear they'll never again touch a single drop of the crayshure!"


	3. Chapter 3

"YEEEOOOOWWWW!"

I was mulling over what the older pirate had told me, until my attention, and also the entire crowd's, was diverted by that sudden howl of agony at the top of someone's lungs. As we all looked around in surprise for who'd just done that, and why, I then heard a deep sigh from next to me, "Dear, dear, every once in a while, himself still forgets that he has to be extra careful, ever since that pesky big reptile enjoyed his hand. Excuse me, laddie, but I'll be needed, I'm sure."

With that strange comment, the Irish pirate then purposefully bustled off, right towards where the mob of pirates was now watching something with utter fascination. A cramped alley littered with garbage ran off from the main street, and in this passageway, there was a small wooden shack, now rocking back and forth. It was easy enough to recognize the purpose of this crude shed, even without the numerous flies currently buzzing around it, as the narrow door of the rickety structure had the usual air-hole carved near the top of this panel. Though, instead of the normal half-moon shape of the obligatory ventilation aperture, a skull and crossbones had been cut into the door of the Little Pirates' Room.

In the next moment, the door of the outhouse burst open, and a tall man swearing vilely under his breath staggered out of the shack, taking a step into the alley, with all of his attention then being fully concentrated on stuffing his shirttail back into his pants, a course of events in adjusting his flamboyant clothing that was made even more difficult by the fact that this guy's right hand was missing, and in its place there was an iron hook ending in a wicked point, with this curved rod attached to a metal cup at the end of his right arm. Still, he expertly threaded his hook through a belt-loop to hold up his trousers while his other arm finished tucking away his shirt, and while looking down to check on this, that man absently bellowed, "SMEE!"

We could easily hear that, including the now-identified Irish pirate's cheerful response of, "Aye, Cap'n?" since the whole frozen crowd of us was intently observing and listening to this in total silence, including when that seaman's captain ignored his underling's sudden appearance in the alley, to instead twist around to reach for his ornate hat with a luxurious ostrich plume attached, yanking this from a peg on the back of the outhouse door, clapping this fancy headgear onto his cranium, as he turned back around and began giving orders.

"Smee, I want you to leg it to the ship-"

"-and bring back your special salve for these regrettable occasions, aye, aye, Cap'n." Smee finished off that disconcerting interruption without showing any particular surprise, to then earnestly continue. "Twill be done as quick as a wink, your ruthlessness, but would you also be wantin' your most comfy pillow, with all the restin' of your fundament today upon that chair that's harder than the heart of any English landlord ever born?"

"That would be a good-" This time, it was the captain who interrupted himself, abruptly cutting off his words as he finally turned to face the mouth of the alley and saw us all there standing in the square with wide grins on our faces looking back at that man. As he stood there like a statue, the left corner of his mouth opened a crack to hiss, "Smee, you idiot, why didn't you say something?"

"Er…" uneasily gulped Smee, his normal good humor having abruptly deserted him, and the Irishman began to sidle away down the alley out into the street, staying well out of the reach of his master, as he then called over his shoulder, "I'll just be goin' now, Cap'n, dear. Even so, I'm still sure you'll be doin' your usual grand job of winnin' the wonder and admiration of our gallant gatherin' and makin' them all forget whatever minor embarrassments that might have occurred today, please, God. Well, I'll be back soon, oh, maybe…sometime around Easter, say?" The sound of stampeding footsteps now hung in the Caribbean air, as a quick blur of action showed where Bos'n Smee had hastily taken to his heels.

Glaring after his loose-lipped minion, who was going to pay for that (something on the order of a nice keelhauling, at the very least), the captain was distracted from his fury at Smee by various sniggers arising from the back of the watching crowd. His face quickly shifting into haughty dignity, the pirate captain then stalked forward, with the other corsairs hurriedly making way for him, though they still had serious smirks on their features as the tall man then headed for the chair in the middle of the square. When he reached that piece of furniture, the pirate captain wheeled around, and then he seated himself with majestic deportment. Unfortunately, despite himself, that man's countenance momentarily contorted in deep distress the instant his full weight came down upon his aching rear.

The entire crowd, myself included, now roared with laughter, right up to the very moment the seated captain possessing a set face then calmly lifted up his right arm, and he next abruptly slammed down what had replaced his right hand onto the end of the chair's armrest, with the needle-point of his hook stabbing into the wood with a bowel-loosening _THUNK! _sound.

Every single person there that had been laughing instantly shut up, with it then being quiet enough for all of us to hear the cracking of that pirate's hook being wrenched out of the chair, with a deep gouge left as a reminder of his threatening action. Glancing around the cowed crowd, a thin smile lifted the man's lips under his neatly-trimmed mustache as he gingerly leaned back in the chair, and Captain James Hook was satisfied that those gutless curs once more remembered his fearsome reputation.

Casting a cold eye upon the waiting assembly, the nemesis of a certain boy that never grew up now spoke in a deep, strong voice that rang throughout the square. "Lads, we are convened here today for our daily gathering of the Brotherhood of the Coast as is our custom, to share news that concerns us all, to answer any rumors and questions you might have, and to carry out the matters of administering our village. Well, at our last meeting, we had no old business, so we don't need to trouble ourselves with that. That leaves only any new business. Someone? Anybody? No? All right then, roll out the rum casks, and let's start drinking."

An ecstatic cheer came from the parched pirates, leaving me standing there stunned, as things had happened a bit too fast, despite the warnings from my advisors that this was likely to happen. Okay then, time to get busy. I promptly stuck my fingers between my lips, and blasted through them the longest, loudest, and shrillest whistle I could manage.

When I finally ran out of breath, I looked around to see the crowd of buccaneers had backed away from me, with those guys shifting into a semi-circle in the clearing that now had them all facing me. In the middle of the arc was a one-handed captain seated in his shaded chair, and giving me a truly malevolent glower that sent chills down my spine as I stood there in the hot sun of the square, facing down a couple of dozen pirates.

"Was there an actual reason for that very indecorous act, young feller-me-lad?" menacingly purred Captain Hook, who managed to sound much, much scarier than the Disney or stage version of him.

I gave another look around at every one of those scarred, vicious, hell-raising, fiercest sea-wolves now beadily eyeing me with ready wickedness, all of them appearing quite willing to cut my throat between quaffs from their flagons just for fun, and I said as steadily as I could, "I'm here to declare myself the King of the Pirates!"


	4. Chapter 4

Honestly, the most creepy thing about the pirates' reaction over those words I'd just spoken was how _happy_ they now looked. I had the nervous feeling that I was in really, really big trouble when Captain Hook then jovially remarked to the other buccaneers clustered around him in their sudden good mood, all while that man showed his gleaming white teeth in a truly nasty grin directed right at me, "It just goes to show you, lads, that life can at any moment bestow upon yourselves truly unexpected pleasures! A few minutes ago, I thought there wouldn't be any chance of some vicious amusement until bingo tonight!"

Actually rubbing his hands together in evil delight, the pirate captain sadistically eyeing me leaned forward in his chair while ignoring the abrupt twinge in his nether regions this action caused, and he cackled, "All right, then, laddie-buck, you've declared yourself to be the King of the Pirates. That's perfectly fine, since anybody who comes here to our village can freely assert that straightforward announcement, according to our by-laws. However, as you're now going to learn, the genuinely hard part-"

"LAWS!"

The thunderous bellow coming from the back of the crowd of pirates blasted out that single word like a ton of gunpowder exploding, causing people to flinch and look backwards in sudden alarm, particularly when what looked like a walking smoke cloud then shoved its way through the throng, winding up standing next to the exasperated man in his chair who'd been abruptly interrupted.

I stared at seeing there a big, brawny pirate whose filthy coat stretched to the ripping point over a beefy chest, arms and legs like pillars, and a very angry face that was mostly hidden by an immense, midnight-black beard reaching down nearly to his straining belt trying to contain a barrel gut, with that chin-shrubbery containing a dozen lit slow-matches whose other ends had been braided into his hair. These fuses were all emitting thick streams of smoke that nearly hid this furious pirate, except when his deafening roars blew away the choking vapors, which was happening right now.

"I HATE LAWS! I HATE 'EM ALL, AND ALSO THOSE HONEST MEN THAT MAKE 'EM, WHO SHOULD ALL DROP DEAD-"

A motion seen from the corner of my eye diverted my attention from this, as Captain Hook, who'd been rubbing his forehead in irritation, now dropped his left hand from performing this action, as he gazed with absolute disgust at the ranting man, opened his own mouth and pitched his voice in an effort to be heard under the other pirate's yelling: "Teach."

"-AND WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON 'EM, I'LL STICK MY CUTLASS INTO-"

"Teach!"

"-THEN I'LL GRAB THEIR THROATS AND PUT MY THUMBS IN THE PROPER POSITION-"

"_TEACH!_"

When even the last shout didn't work, as the bearded pirate still continued his enthusiastic description of his future homicidal plans, Captain Hook sighed in deep vexation, dipped his left hand into a coat pocket, and yanked out a small single-shot pistol, which he aimed directly at the head of the bellowing man, and pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_

A moment later, the entire crowd of corsairs straightened up from their instinctive ducking, watching with interest the now-silent big pirate gazing down with perplexity at his hat that had fallen to his feet, with that scruffy headgear with the white skull-and-crossbones embroidered onto the front of the hat's crown now having a bullet hole through the forehead of that symbol of danger or death. Bending down to pick up his punctured hat, with his beard momentarily brushing the ground, the burly man carefully replaced his beloved fashion accessory onto his head, and turning around with an actual hurt look on his face, he plaintively addressed Captain Hook idly twirling his empty pistol around a finger, "'Ere, what was all that for?"

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, Barrie's creation snapped, "It seemed to be the only thing that'd shut you up, Teach!"

"Who?" bewilderedly inquired the referred man.

Hook took a deep breath, and then he gritted his answer. "That's you! It's your name, damn and blast it!"

"Oh." Standing there uncertainly, Teach (maybe) brought up an index finger the size, thickness, and durability of a marlinspike, to then scratch thoughtfully between his eyes for a few moments, with his horny fingernail dislodging from that single eyebrow that stretched across his face a dozen small creatures that fell unheeded to the ground, hopped about, and then dug themselves into the soil until they could find another host. Finally bringing down his finger, the bearded pirate doubtfully asked, "Are you sure?"

Absently giving his empty pistol an aggrieved look over not being ready for action right this moment and then dropping that useless weapon back into his coat pocket, the man in the shaded chair now glowered at his confused audience, saying in a calm voice that had serious yelling lurking in it during the near future, "Well, you've answered to it before! Just like all the other names you've used in the past, like Thatch, Thach, Thache, Thack, Tack, Thatche, and Theach!"

After he'd finished counting off those names on his fingers, Captain Hook grimly went on to explain, "However, let's use your current name, and can we please get back to the matter in question? Yes, Teach, even pirates have laws. Oh, we tried anarchy for a while when we moved here, and a most amusing time was had by all, as we did whatever we pleased. Nevertheless, there remained a certain je ne sais quoi lack in our lives, until we came to realize that where there's no laws at all, there's also no opportunity for us to enjoy the delightful sensation of ignoring and flouting those rules and regulations, like a proper pirate should. So, we simply set up our own laws, but don't worry, it's up to us to obey them or not, when we please. Now, have I managed to make you understand, Teach?"

"Excuse me?"

"What?" blinked a disbelieving Captain Hook, echoed by several pirates in the crowd, as they now all stared at the bearded man before them, who'd just drawn himself up in a confident posture after saying that polite question in a cultured voice.

"I say, good sir, you seem to have me confused with someone else. Permit me to introduce myself: Drummond, John Clarence Drummond, of the Bristol Drummonds. Now, can you gentlemen kindly tell me where am I? The last clear memory I have is being in Cholmondeley Castle having a theological discussion with a prelate of my acquaintance." This urbane member of the upper classes speaking to the slack-jawed pirates now looked down, with a mild frown suddenly appearing on his features, as he noticed his beard smoking from the slow-matches tied there, and he guardedly inquired, "Oh, by the way, why am I on fire?"

Slumping back into his chair, Captain Hook despairingly placed his left hand over his eyes, and waving his deadly prosthetic in a dismissive gesture, the pirate said hoarsely, "Will somebody please just take that horrible man away, and give him a nice cup of tea? And while you're at it, throw a bucket of water over him, too."

After a kind-hearted pirate had led off a happy individual hopefully requesting milk and two sugars, a very glum James Hook confided to those other bewildered buccaneers surrounding him, "I still think it's the most impressive thing I've ever seen, him using his head to bounce back that cannonball that British man-of-war fired at us, right through their mainmast and allowing us all to escape performing the hemp hornpipe, but, really, What's-his-name should have considered that there might have been some unintended consequences of his actions." The pirate captain dolefully shook his head, to then have his gaze fall upon me, as I still waited patiently there in the village square.

Sitting up with a jerk (and a faint groan of pain), an embarrassed brigand of the world's oceans remembered his manners, as he hastily apologized, "A thousand pardons, young man! Pray forgive us, but we can now get back to business. Um, where were we?"

I helpfully prompted, "Australia."

For that, I received an astonished glare of sheer outrage that I returned with a sarcastic smirk on my own features, causing the pirate captain to start becoming irritated again. He hissed, "Listen, you pillock, we don't refer to 'The Princess Bride' here! That Westley chappie isn't a proper pirate, anyway, no matter what others might say! Right, then. If you're going to be like that, we _are_ going to follow faithfully our by-laws!" The master of the brig _Jolly Roger _now grinned evilly, a wicked expression that was mirrored on most of the faces of the other pirates, who also seemed to know what their leader was talking about.

Keeping my own face blank, I courteously asked, "Which means what, exactly?"

Captain James Hook gave a malicious chuckle, and following that, he then smoothly answered, "You've just declared yourself to be the King of the Pirates, and currently you have to convince every single one of us in attendance that you are indeed deserving of that title. Right here and now."

It might have just been the warm tropical day that presently made beads of sweat pop out on my brow, as I warily responded, "And if I don't manage to do that?"

From Captain Hook himself, to the very least pirate, all of them now simultaneously drew in a deep breath, to then gleefully chorus at the tops of their voices in a blast of noise that rattled windows throughout the whole of Pirate Village: "YOU WALK THE PLANK!"

* * *

Author's Note: The pirate that roamed the West Indies and the American coast during the early 1700's has come down to us in history as Blackbeard, since he's been reported as being called every single name given here (yes, even Drummond!). Nobody knows his real identity, and I thought it'd be hilarious if he didn't either. Still, if you had to meet a pirate in real life back then, you should have hoped for him, because despite his truly ferocious appearance, down to the glowing slow-matches attached to him, and the vile threats that made every ship he seized immediately turn over their goods, there's no historical record that he ever actually harmed anyone during his robberies. Plus, if the following taken from his ship's log was actually penned by Blackbeard, he had one hell of a writing style:

"Such a day, rum all out - Our company somewhat sober - A damned confusion amongst us! - Rogues a-plotting - Great talk of separation - so I looked sharp for a prize - Such a day took one, with a great deal of liquor on board, so kept the company hot, damned hot; then all things went well again."


	5. Chapter 5

I made sure to look as apprehensive as I could right after those words, with my worried expression then with any luck convincing those pirates grinning at me that I was desperately trying to come up with something to get myself out of this dire situation. While in actuality, I was inwardly congratulating myself on how things had been going. Now, if I could just stretch it out a bit longer-

"Avast there, me hearties! Hold up, all, I must impart a remark or two, if ye'd be so kind, afore a possible blunder happens!"

Well, it _really _must be my lucky day. I watched with interest as the big pirate that had brushed past me earlier now made his way through the mob of corsairs good-naturedly standing aside for this man. It wasn't too hard to remember him anyway, what with his peg leg, his crutch, a battered, cheerful face reddened by sun and his exertions, and riding upon that man's shoulder, there was Engelbert the parrot currently giving me a sardonic look, as his owner then halted by the seated Captain Hook, who was thoughtfully eyeing this newcomer.

In a silky voice that practically oozed his concern, the pirate captain inquired, "Only a remark or two, Silver? That's not like you, what with your constant need to express yourself at great length. Are you by perchance suffering from some potentially fatal disease, that'll soon send you to your deathbed, and finally result in a nice, deep grave with a fine marble headstone that I'll be the first to contribute a donation towards?"

Long John Silver beamed at his questioner, and the pirate with a missing leg genially rumbled in answer, "'Tis most grand of ye to bother about me health, yer lordship. But I know ye'll be overjoyed that I'm in the prime of me life, unlike ye with yer bothersome problem involvin' yer lower half. Ye should know that if ye ever ask, I'll be more than happy to give me best advice on exactly what kind of truss ye should strap on in the future, to help yer stay a few steps ahead of that crockydile that lives in fervent hope of munchin' upon yer tasty corpus."

A fascinated crowd of pirates then watched literary legends giving each other polite smiles, over which two pairs of identical cold eyes searched for any newfound vulnerabilities possessed by the other man that each thoroughly detested.

Captain Hook was the first to break off their staring contest, with that suave man able to do so without showing any weakness, as he casually leaned back in his chair, and asked in a bored tone, "Well, just what were you going to say, about our plans for this little perisher who thinks he can stroll in here and rule the roost?" A quick jab of his hook was then made in my general direction, if anybody there actually needed to be reminded of my presence.

Indeed, Silver the pirate then slowly turned his head, to regard me with exaggerated interest for a while, well past the normal interval for this, as if he was playing to the crowd. Which action did in fact prove to be true, as he then contorted his face into a massive wink at me that would've reached all the way to the rearmost stalls in the panto theatre. A hum of curiosity arose from the other pirates paying close attention to all this, as they now watched Silver turn back towards them in their semi-circle, while the man opened his mouth to sonorously deliver his words.

"Gentlemen, I salute ye all for hewin' to the finest traditions of piracy, brigandage, and general snafflin' of whatever our victims hold dearest, but it's with me deepest regrets that I must inform yer honors that this young laddie's punishment, should he fail in his chosen task, was never, ever actually carried out by any livin' pirate in the real world. Sad to say, walkin' the plank was somethin' that was made up by some unknown author most likely bearin' the classic name of Anonymous, and carried onto this day only by those imagined pirates of yore that have populated the world of literature. Consider that carefully, me hearties."

As Silver finished speaking, that pirate looked expectantly at the crowd of buccaneers that had then started an astonished rumble of conversation with their fellows, discussing among themselves the surprising news that they'd just learned from the man with the peg leg. Did this mean I had to be let go, whatever happened, since that form of execution for someone strolling off a piece of timber attached to a sailing ship into the jaws of the waiting sharks below in the briny ocean was a total fabrication? Or-

At that moment, a throat was languidly cleared, but still done with enough force to immediately halt the debate. All eyes were then drawn by that sound towards Captain Hook, who was idly rubbing his dangerous prosthetic against the front of his coat, with that man then putting down his arm on his upper thigh, as he intently examined Silver standing there. Next, the seated master mariner slowly twisted in his chair to look around at those surrounding him, continuing his absorbed inspection of every single pirate present in the semi-circle.

While James Hook was performing his odd behavior, I sneaked a look at where Silver was, only to witness a quick expression of pained disappointment flash across his battered face, as that one-legged pirate evidently realized something that I'd missed. It wasn't until the captain in his chair was nearly finished in his scrutiny of those other corsairs, that I finally got it, too.

Barrie, Defoe, Ballantyne, Masefield, Marryat, Sabatini, Stevenson, Fraser, Powers…

Sure enough, when Captain Hook at last straightened in his chair after ending his inspection, that pirate bestowed a wide, triumphant smile upon his rival, as someone, who'd just confirmed to himself that virtually every pirate there, himself included, was a fictitious character that had long ago been invented in someone's imagination, now gloated, "So, Silver, what was your point again?"

A rumbling growl came from the redder-faced pirate, as Silver drew himself up in a serious huff, causing Englebert to flutter his wings to keep his balance. His owner ignored the parrot on his shoulder, to instead glare at the smirking captain in his chair, as that seated worthy expectantly waited to see how his adversary would respond to that. The other pirates continued to closely watch them both, with all of that audience absolutely enthralled by this truly wonderful show they wouldn't have missed for all the gold doubloons in the world.

After a few more moments of staring angrily at another man thoroughly enjoying his victory, Silver's face abruptly smoothed from antagonism into actual consideration. Seeing this, Hook's features also became more wary, sensing his opponent was about to try something else. Sure enough, the peg-leg pirate firmly nodded to himself as he clearly came to a decision, to send towards a suddenly-suspicious captain a confident smile, as Silver then abruptly stumped over towards me.

I stood there frozen in surprise, as the older man came up and then moved over to my left side, as with a dramatic flourish, he wheeled around on his peg leg, bringing down his crutch with a crash onto the ground, and as I twisted my head to see from my right eye, Silver then brought up his right arm, to next unexpectedly clap his massive hand down upon my left shoulder and leaving it there, causing me to stagger on my feet at this out-of-the-blue action by that pirate. Particularly when a sea-cook's voice that had easily roared over full gales now blasted into my left ear.

"SEE HERE, YE SWABS, I'LL BE THIS LADDIE'S ADVOCATE IN HIS BECOMIN' THE KING OF THE PIRATES!"

Captain Hook suddenly sat up straight in his chair, his face twisting into baffled fury, as the other pirates now whooped in glee, shouted in protest, or otherwise expressed their decorous opinions at the tops of their own lungs. Under the cover of this noise, I looked into the steady gaze of Silver at arm's length as he unblinkingly regarded me, while I hissed right into his face, "What the hell are you doing? I didn't ask you for any-!"

"Shut yer gob, boyo!" growled back Silver, who now had a determined glint in his eyes. "I been talkin' meself out of tight corners me whole life, and it's fortunate for ye that I can't stand that pooftah over there with his lah-de-dah hook! We got it in our village agreement that any true Brethen of the Coast can argue for those who face pirate judgment, so just let me be about me task!"

I would have protested further, except for two things. One, Engelbert was sniggering really loudly about my predicament, and second, the small charm on my necklace under my shirt had now started to continually vibrate.


	6. Chapter 6

Standing there in the village square, I was idly wondering how things were going with my friends, and not really paying all that much attention to Silver's praising me to the skies for my recent actions in daring to enter Pirate Village and then proclaiming myself to be the King of the Pirates. I think he did that mainly for his own entertainment, since it took him a full five minutes to finish off his fulsome compliments, and then to actually start upon my qualifications for this royal position. Considering he didn't know a single thing about me, I was just as curious as the rest of the pirates on exactly what he'd say regarding their visitor.

Note for the future: Never try to second-guess Long John Silver.

"Me hearties, I give ye…The Patch."

I incredulously stared at the man who'd just managed to pronounce the capital letters of that last pair of words, trying to figure out what the hell he was talking about. That guy couldn't possibly mean something for nicotine addiction, could he? It was only when a strange noise came from over where the other pirates were, that I snapped my head around to look at them, and at the same time, I finally understood.

Those rough, hard-living, hard-drinking sea bandits had just rumbled out a growl of approval, all while every one of them gazed with admiration right at my eyepatch. I stood there stunned, as a really smooth talker went on.

"He's known loss and pain, me lads, and then he got back up on his feet, goin' on with his life. No whinin', no sayin' the world ain't fair, just gettin' down to business and makin' his way through the world. We've all done it, aye, and we know how hard it is. Wouldn't ye care to follow such a man wherever he may lead ye, who can and has driven himself past what he previously thought were his limits? I'd sign up for any voyage with him, and may the divil take me before me proper time if that ain't the honest truth throughout the seven seas!"

That resulted in an actual roar of agreement, with gap-toothed grins, thumbs up (at least from those pirates who still possessed those exact digits), and supportive winks bestowed upon me standing there trying to take it all in. I could actually feel the flush appear on my face then, particularly at where my eyepatch pressed into my skin. Yet, I also felt something like…flattered delight. Those guys had began to accept me, just like one of their own, and while doing it, they'd shown me something that I hadn't had in a long time.

Back in the real world, people might think that an eyepatch was dashing and cool, but up close, face to face, virtually everyone talking to me tried to ignore what I was wearing on my head, keeping their own eyes directed away from it and what that item covered. Sure, part of it was sheer politeness, not wanting to offend me, but it also included simple revulsion, and also trying to avoid thinking that their own bodies were equally fragile and the same thing could just as easily happen to them.

Here…nobody cared.

"Ahem."

Well, there's always one spoilsport.

Captain Hook stopped fingering his right wrist where the flesh of his arm met the metal cup covering his stump, and he looked around with a cold eye that instantly ruined the mood. Directing his unblinking gaze at me, which in this specific case I could have really done without, that wicked pirate captain sneered, "Yes, yes, most affecting. However, I do confess to a certain niggling curiosity on exactly _how _you lost your eye. After all, if it was perhaps something on the order of an ejected champagne cork striking you there during some student revelry, that's certainly not going to win you any sympathy from everyone here!"

I glanced over at the other buccaneers, who were now nodding thoughtfully, as they then stilled expectantly, clearly waiting for me to say something in my defense. Even Silver had a grudging look on his weather-beaten features that indicated his loathed fellow pirate had an actual point.

In my own case, I could feel my face stiffening over unwanted memories from years ago. It was clear that I had to come out with something, though, so I managed to speak through clenched jaws, "It was during the middle of a war, and the second-in-command on the other side, a crazy ex-preacher, he gouged it out with his thumb!"

"Oooooo…" moaned the mob of pirates in awed horror.

Even their leaders, Hook and Silver, looked impressed over hearing that, with the latter pirate then asking in honest curiosity, "So, what happened then, matey?" In his chair, Captain Hook leaned forward to listen, his face intent as he eagerly awaited more information.

Remembering what Buffy had done to Caleb with the Scythe, my mouth twisted into a chilly smile, as I told them, "Soon after, a friend of mine caught up with that bastard and chopped him in two with an axe. Lengthwise."

The man with the peg leg beamed in utter delight, saying appreciatively, "Now, that's a grand friend! I'd like to meet him!"

I opened my mouth to correct the pirate over that last pronoun, until I hastily shut it, due to the sudden dreadful thought of what might happen if Buffy Summers and Long John Silver ever managed to meet each other, or even worse, then decided to team up permanently. We'd have to find another word to describe an absolute catastrophe, since 'apocalypse' wouldn't even begin to cover that horrifying situation.

Thankfully, my attention was diverted by an exasperated snarl from where Captain Hook was seated. Leaning back in his chair, that man shrugged his shoulders in irritation, to then snap at us standing before him, "Oh, all right! I'll give him that one!" Beginning to drum the fingers of his remaining hand upon the chair's armrest, an annoyed shipmaster had his face darken at the sudden outburst of cheers from the pirates around him at this acknowledgement of my courage.

I wasn't all that confident myself, since I soon saw Hook look pensive, with him then developing a very sinister smile upon his lips. Raising his voice over the happy comments of the crowd, the pirate captain now mused, as if to himself, "You know, that eyepatch of his… It does tend to attract one's attention. So much, that in fact you might miss something else important about that perisher's face!" In the sudden quiet of his audience closely listening to this, Hook leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with malice, as he spat out, "It's…clean!"


	7. Chapter 7

It was only when I bewilderedly glanced over at Silver, who was himself looking a bit concerned, that I began to sense I was again in real trouble. The sudden mass growl from the other pirates helped me form this conclusion, also. It wasn't until I looked around at the grubby corsairs glaring at me, with their dirty fingernails, greasy faces, and unwashed clothing, all while the soft tropical breeze wafted towards me from them a combination body odor of a pro football team's locker room and a goat farm during a record rainy season, that I finally realized the reason for their abrupt change of mood into one of dislike for me. Damn that man with his hook leaning back in his chair and smirking at me!

One of the things the authors always skipped in those boys' adventure stories about the days of sail, and later on in the movies with all the directors' shots of pirate ships and men-of-war cruising on the bounding main into a gaudy sunset, was the vulgar fact that before the Age of Steam, sailing ships stank to high heaven.

The smell rose from the bottom up, where everything collected and rotted in the noisome bilges that could never be fully pumped dry, from the usual dead rats to the waste products from the crew and livestock that were carried as cargo or fresh meat in an age without refrigeration. (If you're wondering about there being a big ocean outside the ship, where surely a seaman could have a tinkle into, for the crew there was usually a space at the forepeak [the interior part of the ship nearest the bow], with one or two holes cut in a plank, which made for a truly interesting experience during heavy seas. The officers had a slightly better room in the stern, or they used chamber pots. Just makes you want to run off to sea and become a cabin boy in a clipper ship, doesn't it?)

Everyone afloat back then became inured to it, particularly the crew hard at their work, who also had to live with wearing on their skin and clothing such things like food scraps, sweat, soot, tar, dirt, paint, cargo deposits, gunpowder stains, and everything else. With no baths or laundry, ever. Fresh water was simply too precious for drinking purposes, and to a lesser extent, cooking. That vital fluid was never to be wasted for something so trivial as keeping the crew clean. Seawater didn't work very well at all for a soak, with any constant use of it for more than an occasional sluice of a bucket onto oneself producing a gummy residue that could bring on agonizing salt-water blisters. Using the same bucket of seawater to douse your dirty clothes into that pail only wore them out faster, making it pointless to keep them clean in the first place.

Oh, there was the occasional rainstorm at sea where a quick wash was possible, but that could never be counted upon, and anyway, the sailors would soon get dirty again and head back into the fug of their reeking quarters, there to regard with growing suspicion anybody complaining about the smell or trying desperately to keep themselves tidy and spotless. While there was an actual word as 'shipshape' for being neat and in good order, bathing wasn't part of it, and managing to keep yourself clean risked being considered by the other sailors to be using more than your proper share of the fresh water. Which was almost as bad as actually being caught stealing from your shipmates.

All sailors _hated_ that, with even pirates considering a thief among them, rather than against any others they attacked, to be the lowest of the low, and being found out as a water thief was just as injurious to someone's reputation, and possibly as potentially fatal. Something that Captain James Hook indeed knew quite well, as that disgraced son of an aristocratic family sat back more comfortably in his chair and gleefully watched, as I frantically tried to think of some way to get out of this before a quick lynching was held, with me as the main guest of honor.

Once again, Silver came to the rescue. In his own unique way, of course.

"HAH!" That abrupt bellow probably scared passing seagulls flying along a few miles out in the bay It certainly startled me, particularly when after trumpeting that, Long John now stumped around me in a quick circle, all the while sweeping his intent gaze up and down my body, from head to toe. Finally finishing his exaggerated examination, Silver slammed to a halt, wheeled around to face the other pirates, and glared at them all while growling in a hoarse whisper that made those curious corsairs lean forward as they strained to hear.

"'Tis true, as me faithful comrade over there" (Hook's face instantly went beet-red in sheer apoplexy at hearing that) "from his own personal experience, I'm sure, has struck the nail on the head! There's no question that, and may I never have me lips touch rum again if I'm wrong, but this laddie has had, no later than a week ago, an actual…_BATH!_"

That last word was roared with supreme disgust at the full force of Silver's lungs, making all the other pirates flinch back, Hook included, as the man with a peg leg shot out his right arm to point an accusing index finger directly into my face, as I incredulously heard him go on. "Ye know what that means, don't you, me hearties? Back then, this imp of Satan stepped up to a vat of water heated hot enough to melt a brass statue, and without a second thought, he put a toe…a foot…a leg…nay, even what I can hardly bear to speak of, but I shall! Aye, he brazenly dipped his weddin' tackle into that steamin' cauldron!"

In unison, the crowd of pirates standing there all shuddered at that final appalling image. However, Silver wasn't finished yet.

"And as he was sitting there in the bubblin' barrel of degeneracy, without a care in the world, this fiend in human shape reached out and took hold of a chunk of that vile substance that ain't ever spoken of in polite company! He brought it up to his face and, oh, the cruelty of it all, he then stroked this corrosive corruption onto his countenance! YES! This inkblot on the page of humanity standin' before ye, he washed behind his ears with _SOAP!_"

Horrified awe grew upon the features of the rapt pirates, who now began shooting me looks of fearful respect, particularly when Long John Silver began vividly describing my actions then in the bath with a long-handled scrub-brush, painting pictures with words that would have made an impressed ex-girlfriend of mine start taking notes about opportunities for punishment or rewards, or even both.

I stood there looking stern, while struggling inwardly to not explode with laughter. It didn't help when my necklace charm now began to vibrate in short dashes, in the signal for complete success, an event that made my spirits soar even higher, until I finally lost control, and allowed a wide grin appear from ear-to-ear on my face. Unfortunately, that caught the suspicious eye of someone who was balefully observing me, and caused him to decisively react.

"_QUIET!_" roared Captain Hook in his own thunderous bellow, managing the rare feat of cutting off Long John Silver in mid-word. Ignoring this, the furious man in the chair pointed his trembling hook at me, hissing, "Lads, this perisher's up to something! I can feel it in my water, and I'm going to find out what's going on right _now_! So then, you landlubber, even if you're as big as a reprobate and miscreant as any of these scum here breathing down my neck, why should we have you as our king? If we ever actually need a ruler, it'll be someone who can lead us to glory! To loot the entire Caribbean, set the Spanish Main ablaze, take and raze all the cities and homes of our enemies! We want someone who'll attack the Pearly Gates and rob the pockets of God Himself! You…what have you ever stolen? A bus ticket, the discarded hair on the floor of a barber's, an orange peeling from a baby's carriage? Tell me here and now, why should we call you a brother thief?"

Oh, you can live your entire life without ever getting a straight line like that. As I stared back into the fascinated faces awaiting my reply, I devotedly hoped that enough time had elapsed, or I was really going to look like an idiot. Nevertheless, I drew myself up in a clear signal, but instead of speaking, I slowly turned in a half-circle, to then abruptly bring up my right arm and hold it stiffly straight at shoulder level, as I pointed down the main street of the village. Since I was also looking down this avenue, to where it changed into the town's wharf at the shoreline, I couldn't see the reactions of my audience, but I did hear the puzzled murmur of the crowd as they followed the direction of my gesture.

Still holding my pose, I fixedly kept watching, and after a few really anxious seconds, I saw what I was praying for. Past the wharf, across the bay glittering in the tropic sunlight, to the headlands at the mouth of the bay, something was moving on the ocean about a mile past the right headland, as this object now fully revealed itself when it sailed into view. Even at this distance, I knew everyone else in the crowd, being seamen all, had instantly recognized the vessel now gliding across the mouth of the bay as being a small schooner, a fast sailing ship having a pair of masts and with her sails set lengthwise fore-and-aft.

I then dropped my arm, to next confidently fold both of these limbs across my chest, as I turned back to the confused crowd, with about a dozen of these perplexed men, including both Hook and Silver, taking out their personal telescopes from their pockets, pulling open these devices for looking at distant objects and bringing them up to their eyes, while others clustered around these privileged persons, as they waited for news about that ship out there, and why I had shown it to them at all.

In the next few seconds, every single pirate looking through their telescopes had their mouths fall wide open in sheer shock, with most also turning dead white, actions not calculated to reassure the other corsairs who were starting to demand at the tops of their lungs from the watchers what was going on, and what were they seeing that was making them all look absolutely sick?

Still with my arms across my chest, I smirked at everyone there, not needing a telescope of my own, as in my mind's eye, I could perfectly see the good ship _Sunnydale _skimming through the ocean waves, Captain Rupert Giles standing on the quarterdeck, happily polishing his glasses and then replacing these on his face, as Bos'n Dawn expertly handled the wheel, with that young lady maniacally grinning past the spokes in her firm grip, while up in the rigging, Second Mate Faith was balancing on a line as nimbly as a monkey despite the heaving motion of the sailing ship, as she ran through her entire repertory of obscene gestures, directing these toward the shores at the watchers she knew were there, with an equally gleeful grin on this woman's dark face, and finally, on the forecastle deck, her blonde hair flashing in the sunlight as she gaily skipped while jumping rope, First Mate Buffy was having her own gloriously wonderful time.

Particularly as this young seawoman's jump rope was probably the most valuable children's toy ever made, with it being a nine-foot long strand of pearls, every single one of those gleaming-white spheres being the size of golf balls. And it wasn't even the most valuable thing in the heaps of treasure that filled every square inch of the schooner's hold and the cabins, and also spilled out to pile up knee high on the deck in mounds of jewels and gold coins, bars, ingots, cups, and anything else that could be worked into precious objects!

Back in Pirate Village, as these inhabitants slowly lowered their telescopes, their aghast faces cutting off the anxious questions of the others, they all now stared at me calmly regarding them, until I then cheerfully informed every single pirate there: "You wanted to know what I've stolen? Okay, then, today me and my friends, using the plan I thought up, while I came here to distract you all, they sneaked through the back of the town into your treasure vaults, broke in, and hauled off to our ship every single bit of your loot, down to the last bent penny!"


	8. Chapter 8

A short time later, Long John Silver was standing before me, leaning on his crutch while his other hand was gently patting me on my shoulder in a gesture of sheer respect and appreciation. Both of these emotions were also present in his expression and voice, as with an actual tear of joy in his eye, that man rumbled in total satisfaction, "Ah, boyo, it does me grand to know that the younger lads like ye are carryin' on with proper piracy. I ain't seen for years now such a masterpiece of skullduggery like the one ye just sprung on us all. Takin' our entire plunder away from us under our very noses, that would've set ye up as a legend among pirates, fit to match Drake and Morgan and Long Ben Avery. Alas, the only thing stoppin' ye from actually becomin' the King of the Pirates was the wee mistake ye made, in that ye somehow neglected to set up yer own escape durin' the caper. Well, I mustn't keep the others waitin', but I want ye to know, for whatever it'll be worth durin' yer remainin' time in this world, that ye'll always have a special place in me heart. Now, if ye'll just excuse me, I'll be gettin' out of the line of fire."

After finishing that speech, Silver then sidled to the right a dozen yards, to finally make a quarter turn as the sea-cook stood on the sidelines of the village square, watching with amused interest that was shared by Englebert the parrot perched on his owner's shoulder, as I regarded what had been revealed behind that man when he'd moved off. Every single pirate standing there in the semi-circle before me was now steadily pointing some kind of weapon at various parts of my body. There were numerous flintlock pistols cocked and ready, poised to fire their rounds at the single twitch of trigger fingers, and there were also virtually every kind of bladed piratical weapon present: knives, cutlasses, boarding axes, and something that looked like an icepick. Which, considering we were on a tropical island, that latter weapon must have been brought here by some very optimistic pirate.

As I mulled that over, I was also watching the only seated pirate there, who had his own weapon brushing his mustache, with this hook doing that grooming in a thoughtful fashion until Captain You-Know-Who finally came to a decision. Lifting his other hand to make a patting gesture in the air, that pirate captain dryly commented, "Those of you scum who've got one, lower and safe your pistols. After all, we wouldn't want to make a mistake and shoot that bloody idiot over there right now, would we? Especially since it seems the only hope of us ever getting back our spoils means we have to keep him alive as long as it takes for him to talk."

A mutter of savage agreement came from the other pirates, as those who'd been aiming their pistols at me obeyed Hook's order and put away these weapons. That didn't exactly lift my spirits, however, as every one of them now pulled out their own knives or whatever, and they then checked the keenness of these blades with the ball of their thumb, giving me nasty grins all the while.

My attention got called back by a cleared throat, as their leader glowered at me, and then from his chair, Captain Hook politely inquired, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to save us - yourself included - all the necessary trouble and just make a clean breast of things? Otherwise, we'll start with a simple surgical operation that'll turn you into a soprano. That procedure not only has the advantage of being survivable, but the remains, once pickled in a sealed jar, can be sent to your friends as a reminder that unless they return our booty, they'll be receiving future gifts donated quite unwillingly by you. What do you say, young man?"

A sadistic cheer broke loose from the other pirates when Hook finished, accompanied by loud declarations of volunteering and several arguments between a couple of corsairs on who'd be the best one at the job, until exasperated elbow jabs in the ribs by their friends quieted down these disputants, as they all eagerly awaited my response.

I'm really sure that none of them expected me to put my fists on my hips, tilt back my head until I was looking up at the clear blue sky, and then yell at the top of my lungs, "LADIES, NOW WOULD BE A GOOD TIME!"

Bringing down my head, I saw that all of the pirates, Silver included, were now regarding me as if I'd suddenly gone insane. Until a moment later, accompanied by unusual noises abruptly coming from behind me and then getting closer, the gaze of every buccaneer there flickered away, to ignore me standing there, as they all now gaped past me at what was evidently coming up the main street of the pirate village towards us.

As for me, I allowed myself a very relieved smirk to appear on my face, as I then turned around at the sound of tramping feet intermingled with an odd swishing noise. Well, the latter was easy enough to figure out, as it was made by the swirling skirts brushing against the stomping legs carrying forward a mob of women in a line abreast and many others behind, a crowd of onrushing femininity that filled the entire street from where they'd been concealing themselves behind the structures lining this avenue, until I had summoned this group.

They were the pirate wenches.

Trulls, doxies, or whatever name came to mind, they were the companions of the pirates who'd come to this Caribbean setting, yet who lived apart from the men in their own, much cleaner village on the other side of the island. With good reason, as tartly explained to me by their leader, a tall, blonde, assured lady in her mid-forties: "We moved upwind as far as we could get away from those smelly drunks, who've never heard of deodorant, and if you offered them some anyway, they'd _eat _it!"

The killer glare of this same woman at the head of the oncoming female horde was now directed past me at all of the male pirates standing there in their semi-circle, making them hastily sheathe their weapons, as I glanced over my shoulder at this. A disbelieving Captain James Hook was seated there, his mouth hanging open in shock, while an equally stunned Long John Silver managed to gather his own wits quicker than his rival, for the man with the peg leg to then properly greet the pirate wenches.

As the blonde woman came to a stop in the middle of the street at the edge of the village square about ten feet from myself, followed by the halting of her entire followers giving their own cold stares at the male pirates now looking very sheepish, Silver snatched his hat off his head and hastily made the deepest, most respectful bow possible with his handicap, all while deferentially addressing the ruler of Pirate Wench Village, "Yer Ladyship, blessin's be on ye."

Mistress Joyce calmly received this obsequiousness in the manner of expecting nothing less, while also managing to totally ignore how Englebert the parrot, not anticipating his owner's sudden obeisance, had slid off with a panicky squawk of alarm from Silver's tilting shoulder, painfully landing right onto his beak on the square's hard cobblestones, and then waddling off while muttering avian curses under his breath about stupid humans.

Instead, she, along with her sister wenches that I'd been introduced to at their village - Anya, Kendra, Tara, Cordelia, Harmony, and so many more - now stared steadily at me for several moments. Until, finally satisfied, Mistress Joyce looked around at the accepting faces of the other women, firmly nodded to herself once, and as she gazed again at me, that lady put her hands at the sides of her skirts, grasped these, and then she gracefully curtseyed to me.


	9. Chapter 9

In a ripple of motion, all of the wenches behind Mistress Joyce copied her ladyship by performing their own respectful curtseys in my direction, and they also straightened up when that woman returned to her previous stance. Though, except for one person, the wenches hung back in the street when Mistress Joyce now stepped forward into the village square to walk up to me. She was followed by her second-in-command, who'd been introduced to me earlier at their own village as Anya Jenkins, and as both women joined me while I turned to face the male pirates, with the older woman on my right and Anya on my left, that latter wench gave me a very bawdy wink.

I managed to keep my face straight, even when I then regarded the pirates remaining frozen in their semi-circle, all staring in bug-eyed astonishment at we three before them, with Captain Hook in his chair looking particularly boggled. Silver, on the other hand, nearly made me lose control, as that buccaneer with his wooden peg leg had sauntered over to stand a safe distance away by the seated pirate captain, and the former member of Cap'n Flint's crew was now grinning at me like a joyous jack-o-lantern, his red, beaming face having nearly the same level of illumination produced by that Halloween hollowed-out gourd with a lit candle placed inside.

It was clear from Silver's ready delight that this quick-thinking man had already come to the proper conclusion. Unfortunately for the other pirate leader, Captain Hook hadn't yet caught up with the recent events, as shown by his indignant sputtering at Mistress Joyce. "Damme, why the devil did you act like that, my good woman? Don't you know what this bloody pillock's _done_?"

Looking down her nose at him, the lady in command of the pirate wenches dryly replied, "I don't think you really should have said that, Hook, since your last disrespectful question could easily be construed as lese-majesty, considering that we just greeted this young man as the King of the Pirates."

"WHAT?" bellowed the pirates in a simultaneous explosion of baffled rage, lead by James Hook. An instant later, as the echoes of their shout had died out in the village square, a new sound took its place, with this being a massive chortle coming from where Long John Silver was laughing his head off.

Giving his gleeful enemy standing just out of range of his hook a fulminating glare that should have struck Silver dead right then and there, the seated pirate finally lost his temper, angrily screaming at the two women at my sides, "HAVE YOU GONE INSANE? THAT BASTARD'S STOLEN ALL OUR LOOT! WE'RE GOING TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO GET OUR MONEY BACK!"

For the first time, Anya Jenkins spoke, in a very worried tone that instantly attracted Captain Hook's furious notice, "You really mean all the cash and currency, plus every single coin, jewel, object d'art, valuable item, and whatever medium of exchange issued by a government or other public authority?"

"YES!" roared the man who'd lost a hand to a crocodile, glad to know that _someone_ finally understood the scope of the financial disaster.

A look of horror blossomed on Anya's face, as in a now-shaking voice, she despairingly pressed on. "All the wealth? All the capital, the funds, the riches?"

In a sorrowful sharing of bad news, Captain Hook confirmed his questioner's worse fears. "I'm afraid that every possible portion of our ill-gotten gains has vanished, my dear lady."

We watched Anya's features flicker into various expressions as she absorbed this: shock, appallment, dismay, and others appropriate for this catastrophe. However, as this wench warily glanced around at us all there gazing at her, Anya then slowly allowed a truly disconcerting look to appear upon her countenance. Now possessing a very evil grin, the younger blonde woman of the pair standing next to me looked Captain Hook right in the eye, and she then cooed, in a carrying voice that everyone heard, directly at this taken-aback pirate, "Of course, that means all of _our_ money too, that _you_ and the other pirate captains insisted we turn over to you arrogant men, because it'd be safer in your treasure vaults?"

"Er…yes," cautiously muttered the blindsided pirate, suddenly sensing disaster approaching but unable to escape it.

Taking a step back, Anya proudly lifted her head and folded her arms across her chest, inwardly aware with absolute delight that she was the focus of everyone's attention, as that woman now declared in her ringing voice that carried throughout the square, "Oh, I seriously doubt that, considering that all of our money's safe and sound in our village, where it was dropped off by the King of the Pirates' friends when they loaded up all of _your_ plunder into their ship and sailed from our port!"

During the ensuing near-riot that announcement caused, with the wenches screaming in laughter, the pirates going berserk, Silver now flat on his back on the ground holding his ribs as he raucously guffawed, and Hook scooting down in his chair while unsuccessfully attempting to give his adversary a vicious kick in that man's skull, this time it was Mistress Joyce who turned her head to give me a knowing wink.

Eventually, it wound up with everyone quiet again, with the exception of someone who was shaking their hook at the older woman next to me and yelling "TRAITOR!" at her. That insult seemed to get right under her skin, as she heatedly snapped back to the man again upright in his seat.

"Oh, get hold of yourself, James Hook! I've always been a loyal member of pirate society, dedicated to our way of life, as my sisters here know!" Mistress Joyce waved behind herself at the wenches there firmly nodding in agreement. "Why else would they have chosen me to command them? Do you really think that one day we put our heads together and decided to help someone steal our treasure? Certainly not!" The leader of the pirate wenches then imperiously drew herself up, her sheer presence making itself known and subduing all there, until a moment later, Mistress Joyce settled herself back down, glanced around at everyone, and then she allowed a mischievous grin to form on her lips, as that able woman confided, "It took a really _big_ bribe from this young man here."

I could have sworn that all of the pirates' ears promptly flapped forward in absolute attention at that specific word, with Silver now sitting up cross-legged on the cobblestones and wiping away tears of mirth from his eyes, to be the one to actually express all of those corsairs' curiosity. "Bribe, yer Ladyship?"

Mistress Joyce sent towards someone whose company she enjoyed an amused look. "What, you thought that His Majesty sailed to our home in his schooner and forgot to bring presents for us all? Oh, no, unlike certain _people_" (that hissed word had more than a trace of acid in it) "here, our ruler gave actual care and consideration in selecting our gifts. For instance, the entire main hold of the _Sunnydale_ that docked at our port was crammed with…chocolate."

Right after Mistress Joyce finished her statement with that final word, my hair was ruffled by the breeze that blew through the village square, created by the entire crowd of pirate wenches happily sighing at their recent memories of finally being able to get their hands upon some utterly-delicious and absolutely-fattening-but-who-cares? chocolate. Perking up, these ladies now began gaily calling out their other favorites of what had been handed out among them all.

"Perfumes!"

"Rose cuttings for us to plant!"

"Skin creams and lotions!"

"Bolts of the lightest and coolest silk ever for our clothes!"

"Hair care!"

However, it was Anya Jenkins who ecstatically shrieked at the top of her lungs the most appreciated gift possible for every single pirate wench:

"A FIVE-YEAR SUPPLY OF TAMPONS!"

As I modestly stood there while the women cheered and started dancing together in their joyful bliss, out of the corner of my remaining eye, I saw every male pirate there, including Hook and even Silver, now giving me a very odd look. Shrugging at them, I nonchalantly said, "Trust me, you can't ever go wrong with _that_. It not only shows the woman you give it to that you totally care about them, but also that you've got the bona fide guts to go out and buy it without giving the slightest damn what anybody thinks."


	10. Chapter 10

"He's got our money, me bucko!"

"No."

"Hmmm. All right, then let me narrow it down a mite. He's got _yer_ money!"

"No." This time, an indifferent shrug accompanied that refusal, followed by a calm statement. "Plenty of other fish in the sea for me to capture. Come to think of it, I might actually run across his friends during my plundering expeditions. Wouldn't that be marvelous?"

As I stood there in the middle of the fascinated crowd clustered around them both and keenly watching and listening to their argument, an exasperated Long John Silver scratched his chin, and then he eyed the dignified figure seated in the chair. Not really thinking it'd work, but willing to try anyway, the man with a peg leg ventured in a jovially menacing tone, "He's got yer money, and also all the swag of those sinful coves right behind ye, with their swords and daggers and whatnot. Mayhap that might change yer mind in declarin' for once and all that grand laddie over there is our beloved monarch, afore ye get accidentally stabbed a couple dozen times in the back?"

Not even bothering to look over his shoulder at the pirates there beginning to finger their weapons, Captain James Hook's only reaction to that trifling threat was to direct a magnificent sneer upwards into Silver's reddening face.

A few steps away, Mistress Joyce rolled her eyes, with this being the only indication at large that she was beginning to become really annoyed. That woman's irritation had further grown over Silver's unsuccessful attempt at intimidation, since that one-legged pirate should have known better anyway. Hook hadn't become a pirate captain commanding the scum of the world's oceans by showing any lack of courage against human opponents. No, that aristocratic mariner had to be persuaded in some other way to go along with every single pirate or wench present in affirming their young visitor as the King of the Pirates, given that their island's by-laws required such a thing to be totally unanimous.

What made it even more frustrating to the leader of the pirate wenches was the fact that if James Hook actually _did_ acquiesce, that would be more than enough to satisfy everyone. Not that it'd make this captain any more trustworthy; given his treacherous nature, Hook would instantly seize upon any loopholes or other excuses to gleefully betray his new ruler. However, unbelievable at it might seem, the man who'd lost his right hand in a duel with a boy who refused to grow up still possessed a somewhat crabbed sense of honor. If he could ever be coaxed into giving his word, he'd keep it. Mostly.

So, the main difficulty was to extract from Hook his assent in the first place. But, how to go about it? It was clear that normal threats wouldn't work, nor would bribery. Appealing to his finer nature was simply absurd, and trying the opposite tack of blackmailing this pirate into going along with everyone was equally ill-advised. That man had the kind of nature where he'd proudly _boast_ about his villainy and wickedness covering his entire life-

She later told me what she'd been thinking about then, but when I saw a nearby Mistress Joyce hastily dipping her head to hide the wide grin that had abruptly blossomed upon her face, I had no idea what was going on. Still, I kept watching, particularly when the older woman leaned over to whisper into the ear of Anya at her side. It got even more interesting when that assistant barely managed to hold back her loud whoop of laughter, to instead give a choking snort of delight, as Anya then surreptitiously headed off to pass onto the other pirate wenches whatever message Mistress Joyce had given her, with virtually all of these other women showing their quickly-concealed glee over what they'd been told.

During all that, their mistress had stepped forward into the argument between Silver and Hook, and as I looked on, the seated pirate captain now snarled at the woman, "What d'ye want, you fickle dame? _I'm_ not to be swayed by candy and flowers! I still can't believe you let us down for mere fripperies, anyway!"

Calmly eyeing the angry man in his chair, Mistress Joyce now played for time until word of her scheme could be passed among all of her followers. In a firm voice, she informed not only Hook, but all of the other listening pirates, "Think what you will, but one of our visitor's friends had an important point to impart to us all, when he first laid out his plan to abscond with your treasure. We weren't convinced that it was wise or even workable in the first place, until a lovely girl helped us make up our minds that we wouldn't interfere. But then, that young woman had been given at birth by her parents the perfect name to shape her character, imbuing Buffy Summers with beauty, wisdom, bravery, and superb shopping skills."

Captain Hook, along with the rest of the pirates, gaped in absolute befuddlement at Mistress Joyce standing there and looking pleased with herself, until that one-handed man managed to choke out, "And what exactly did this…_Buffy…_have to say that was so important?"

With a wistful smile as she remembered a delightful lass who'd be the pride of any mother, Mistress Joyce then answered, "Buffy convinced us that if she and her companions managed to break into the vaults while her friend was distracting all of you, to then successfully sneak away with their loads of loot, you shouldn't have had the job of guarding our fortunes in any case. Honestly, if your security was that poor in the first place, anybody could've come along and stolen the whole of the treasure, instead of Mr. Xander Harris here, who's willing to give it all back, if you'll just stop being so damned stubborn, James Hook!"

Haughtily drawing himself up in his seat, this obdurate pirate turned his head to present a classical profile to his audience, and then he drawled in the most infuriating manner possible, "Not even if I have to sail into the furthest reaches of Davy Jones' Locker to hunt down my prey and take back what's mine."

At that moment, Anya slipped back into her former position at Mistress Joyce's side, with the older woman seemingly not taking note of this. Instead, the leader of the pirate wenches now gave the suddenly-wary Captain Hook a beaming smile, apparently accepting his decision. Her voice was also cheerful as she spoke her next words, though by the time her ladyship had finished this statement, that woman's good spirits included more than a trace of malevolence in her mood.

"Fine, then. Without any further ado, we'll just devote our entire existence into making your life a living hell."

Before an alarmed man could say anything to break the sudden quiet that had descended over the hushed crowd, Mistress Joyce calmly raised her index finger up in the air at head level, holding it steady, and looking Captain Hook right in the eye, she started chanting in a deadpan monotone: "Tick…tock. Tick...tock."

After that last mantra, the woman brought down her hand in a commanding gesture. As one, every other pirate wench, from Anya to the newest of them all, now opened their own mouths to join in their lady's chant.

"Tick…tock. Tick…tock. Tick…tock. Tick…tock."


	11. Chapter 11

In his chair, Captain Hook's face turned pure white at hearing that dreaded sound, his eyes darting from side to side as he frantically searched the area for the ravenous crocodile that was determined to finally finish consuming the most delicious meal of its life, a repast this reptile had truly yearned for ever since it had feasted upon that man's hand years past. Suddenly realizing his fears were groundless, Hook's features then contorted in absolute rage, as he shot up from his chair onto his feet, the abrupt, savage stab of pain coming from behind his belt buckle only adding fuel to the pirate's fury, as he raised his own hand with its deadly weapon to threateningly shake it towards Mistress Joyce's direction, as the master of the _Jolly Roger_ roared at his full lungpower, "BELAY THAT, YE CURST WENCHES!"

"Tick…tock. Tick…tock. Tick…tock," steadily continued the unruffled women as they duplicated the sound of a ticking clock inside a crocodile's stomach, swallowed long ago by that animal and still busily working away to give warning to the enraged man before them, who was now approaching actual incandescence.

At least, until Captain Hook abruptly managed, with the utmost effort, to get a grip upon his temper. Ignoring all others there, including the wenches still chanting and myself and the rest of the men uneasily watching this, the pirate captain hissed into the face of the woman before him, "D'ye think that'll truly change my mind? It's a bothersome sound, true enough, but you'll have to come up with something much better than a bunch of doxies acting as if they're blessed with no more brains in their heads than a dozen parrots!"

Over the sounds of her followers still chanting away, along with the indignant "Hey!" from Engelbert somewhere in the crowd, Mistress Joyce simply smirked into Hook's set face with his glittering eyes, and she stopped her own intonation to instead carefully recite, "Extra starch in the cuffs, and kindly do something about the bloodstains, will you, madam?"

"_What?_" gobbled out a baffled Captain Hook, as unnoticed, the pirate wenches stopped their chant to listen in total fascination what they hadn't been told about during their recent instructions from the woman who now evenly continued, as she absently waved behind herself at those ladies.

"If you'll care to look, I'm sure you'd recognize your laundress back there. More to the point, she's still got enough of your clothing that'll allow our subsequent scheme to work! Viz, unless you strike your colors here and now, and declare Xander Harris to be the King of the Pirates, on the next dark, moonless night, we'll use your unwashed attire to create a scent trail from the waterline of the bay to your lodgings! Think of it, you might be coming home unsteadily from the nearest tavern to take your rest in your bed, or actually be in this cot while suddenly awakening from a horrible nightmare about a muffled clock in the stomach of a crocodile, to then realize in the last seconds of your life that it's come true, and there's at the foot of your bed a big, wide-open mouth with dozens of white, sharp teeth about to chomp onto one James Hook!"

As she finished her grisly narrative, Mistress Joyce gloried in the shuddering silence of the awed crowd, that was only ended by a trembling whisper: "You wouldn't."

Instead of replying to that, this terrifying woman merely pointed at me. His face turning slack, Captain Hook seemingly became a broken man, as he now abruptly slumped back down in his chair, with this action causing that pirate to then produce an anguished whimper that made every other male there, myself included, wince in shared sympathy. Mistress Joyce simply lifted an inquiring feminine eyebrow, which was enough.

"Oh, all right!" groaned the seated man in absolute surrender. He glumly regarded me standing there, to then heavily say, "I, James Hook, do declare this…this _boy_ to be the King of the Pirates, and at least he's not that other shadow-losing youngster!" As the entire crowd roared with jubilation over hearing that, with several pirates yanking out their pistols to fire celebratory shots into the air, and other corsairs and sundry wenches happily patting me on my back (I think Anya was the one who goosed me - well, I _hope_ she was), the defeated man sat there balefully continuing to study me.

When the crowd's high spirits and ensuing noise subsided enough for him to be confident he'd be heard, a recovering Captain Hook then said grumpily, "Well, since none of you idiots thought to ask, I'll be the one to say it. You there, the recently appointed ruler of these dimwits, when do we get our money back?"

I cheerfully announced to the pirate mob that had quieted down remarkably fast at that essential question, "I'll send a message right away. However, ladies and gentlemen, you should all be aware that there'll be a few trivial deductions taken out of the treasure for some minor expenses. From you in particular, sir." That last comment was casually directed towards the only person there not on their feet.

"_Me?_" blurted a very startled and quickly becoming annoyed Captain Hook. "What the devil for?"

"Ah…" I tried to think how to best express what I'd been told through my charm. "It seems that while Buffy was looting your own personal vault, she dropped a chest full of gems against her foot and scuffed her best pair of shoes. So, she naturally considers this your fault, and my friend's going to replace her ruined footwear with whatever it takes to buy the newest, most stylish shoes on the market, from out of your pocket."

Hook goggled at me, until a sardonic smile then slowly appeared on that man's face, with him carefully leaning back, to give a deep chuckle and languidly wave his hook in a dismissive gesture of true panache that showed this bloodthirsty pirate did indeed possess a fine sense of dashing style. "Eh, let the lassie have her pretties, even if it costs me a coin or two. After all, how expensive can a pair of woman's shoes be, anyway?"

I managed to keep a straight face then, despite the sudden sniggers from every female there, and the accompanying deeply suspicious glower from Captain Hook, who'd realized that there was something going on that he'd missed. At that point, however, our - indeed, the entire crowd's - attention was abruptly distracted by some other noise coming from the back of the throng clustered around the chair in the middle of the village square.

"Make way there! Make way, ye swabs!"

Craning my neck, along with the others, allowed me to see where people at the back were hastily stepping aside from someone who'd just barked that while coming nearer to the center of the plaza. Those pirates' odd actions were supplemented with an equally bizarre sound of something smacking hard against flesh, and as I glanced around, I saw that Mistress Joyce, Captain James Hook, and Long John Silver were equally perplexed about this.

Finally, we saw a curiously-burdened Bos'n Smee pushing his way past the last of the pirates surrounding us, with the Irishman then stepping into the space where the chair rested. In his left hand, this mature pirate was carrying by its wire handle a small, glowing-red cauldron that from the looks of it, plus the ominous puffs of steam shooting past its tight lid, it had been recently heated to a fantastic degree. However, what was even more strange was what Smee held in his right hand, which had clearly been the cause of these whacking noises. Just a moment ago, to allow him through, that pirate had been hitting his comrades with a six-foot long pole that had wrapped around on the front end a thick wad of white, soft wool, something I recognized from sea stories as a cannon sponge that was used to scour the insides of those weapons menacingly peering from the flanks of sailing warships.

Paying no attention to anyone there as he bustled forward with a slightly maniac glint in his eyes, Smee happily burbled to his paling captain in the chair, "Now then, yer awfulness, sorry for the delay, but I had to get yer medicine at the proper temperature. So, if yer'll just loosen yer britches, and bend over the chair, we'll fix ye up quicker than ye can say Jack Robinson…"

Bos'n Smee then trailed off in his remarks, as that man also came to an abrupt halt, uncertainly looking around as he at last became aware of his surroundings, with all of us there now staring at him, and in the end, the pirate sheepishly mumbled, "Er, did I miss somethin'?"

* * *

"…and that, Pippi, is how I became the King of the Pirates," concluded Xander Harris.

His last words hung in the hushed air, as if the night itself was listening. It was totally quiet in the sitting room on the lower floor of Villa Villekulla, since the thunderstorm outside that had recently been raging had now blown itself out perhaps an hour ago, with even the rain stopping soon after. Neither of the people lying down on the collapsed sofa in the middle of the room had noticed the slightest, with one occupied with his tale, and the other engrossed in what she was being told.

Xander dipped his head from looking up at the ceiling to examining the girl's head that was resting upon his chest. Pippi Longstocking had curled up beside him, with her upper body lying on top of him and her right arm thrown across his torso. She hadn't made any sound for the last few moments, not even her near-constant giggles that had been produced throughout his entire silly story, and her slow, steady breathing that was tickling his bare skin made Xander think the nine-year-old girl had finally fallen asleep.

The New Council troubleshooter learned he was mistaken, when a soft, satisfied whisper came from the motionless child: "I wanna be a pirate wench…" Instead of finishing that, Pippi now gave a contented yawn, and snuggled closer to Xander, who in turn gave a final comforting squeeze from his left arm around her shoulders, as the girl at last entered her relaxed slumber.

Not moving at all, Xander allowed the slow tears running down from the corner of his right eye to soak the side of his head, until he was positively sure that Pippi wouldn't wake up. Then, the lonely man bent his head forward to softly kiss the top of the girl's sleeping head, and to whisper to her as quietly as he could, "Not for a long, long time, I hope. But when that comes to pass….my ladies will take care of you, then."

A man who'd survived the Sunnydale Hellmouth now dropped his head back onto his pillow, closed his eye, and gratefully went to sleep, knowing that for at least this one night, he wouldn't have any bad dreams, as Xander Harris gently held in his slumber someone he could once again watch over and protect.


	12. Epilogue

A week later, Xander Harris was once more finishing his story, lying on his back in a sitting room, with his arm around an attentive female, while outside a night-time storm continued to hurl driving rain against an edifice.

However, while there might have been some similarities regarding the proceedings of the man's earlier narrative in Villa Villekulla, things were much more different tonight when Xander again spoke his final words on how he became the King of the Pirates. For one, the gale outside wasn't a Swedish thunderstorm with all its light and sound effects, but rather a slow-moving deluge coming off the North Sea that was drenching the Scottish castle of the International Watchers' Council with a long, sullen soak as if the bad weather had an actual grudge against the very concept of dryness itself.

Still, the massive, centuries-old stones of the castle kept the room Xander was occupying warm and dry, with a crackling fireplace providing the sole illumination throughout the entire space, this being the only proper light for a storyteller currently lying on his back in the room. Not as formerly done before on top on a collapsed sofa, but here and now, resting upon an enormous tigerskin rug that had been tanned and stretched, to in the end be placed on the floor of a mature man's private sitting room in his apartment.

This rug was highly prized by its owner, not only because of the truly unique nature of this object, but also due to the utter relief of its possessor when he'd seen his daughter-in-heart return in her tumble out of a misapplied portal while crankily declaring at the top of her lungs that big kitties should know better than to try to snack upon Slayers. The hug Buffy Summers had then given Rupert Giles had nearly crushed his ribs and the animal bloodstains transferred by this had also permanently ruined his tweed jacket, but when the former Sunnydale High student had then stomped off to find an unoccupied shower in the castle, the head of the IWC hadn't minded the slightest, even when wondering what to do with the very large, very dead body of the saber-tooth tiger that had come back along with Buffy during her short trip to the Pleistocene Age.

Xander had his own head propped up on the back of this deceased feline's cranium attached to the rest of the rug, with that part of the man's body tilted forward on his distinctive pillow supported by its massive pair of upper canines that jutted out a full fourteen inches from the front of its jaws. This posture made it easy for Xander to look down at the two women in his arms curled around their shoulders, as they simultaneously sniffled on both of his collarbones, their faces resting down on his upper torso as they snuggled on opposite sides of his body.

Finally, Dawn Summers lifted her damp features from Xander's right side, still having tears in her eyes from both laughter and sorrow, as she proudly declared, "Mom would have been a _great_ boss of the pirate wenches!"

Buffy Summers kept her head buried against Xander's left side, but the wordless mutter of agreement coming from that woman was audible to everyone there. Including where Faith Lehane was lounging against the bottom front of her armchair across the sitting room, which she'd slid off onto the floor while helplessly guffawing at Xander's description of his first encounter with Englebert the parrot.

"Yeah," amiably agreed the dark Slayer, her bright eyes gleaming in the flickering firelight. "Mrs. S. woulda kept everyone in line, rulin' with a firm hand." The Boston-born woman then shot an anxious look toward the trio lying on top of the tigerskin rug, only to relax when Buffy lifted her right hand to give an accepting wave at that compliment for her mother. Even after all the years after her bad time in Sunnydale when she'd become an enemy of the Scooby Gang, Faith still regretted never being able to apologize to Joyce Summers for terrorizing that woman and her family. Her sudden remorse was interrupted by another quiet voice coming from her left.

"Quite," nodded Rupert Giles from his position on the room's couch, putting back on his glasses that had just been polished on his shirtfront, and accepting the used handkerchief he'd just loaned to Willow Rosenberg seated by him. While fastidiously tucking away that cloth square soaked by the redhead's tears recently wiped away by the witch, Giles allowed his own sadness to momentarily flicker across his face, knowing it would be mostly hidden in the dim firelight of the room. His mood of bittersweet nostalgia was abruptly broken by the muted words spoken by the Wiccan nearly concealed in the shadows.

"Xander, that was a lovely story, but there was one teensy-weensy detail about it that I'd like to discuss with you."

Puzzled, everyone else there now glanced at where the redhead woman was sitting, with even Dawn and Buffy lifting off their heads from Xander's body to crane their necks in the direction of the witch. Who now leaned forward from the couch, putting her features into the firelight, an action that caused all there to see that Willow Rosenberg was now presenting to the entire room her ultimate Resolve Face, as she growled at her startled friend, "You big jerk, why wasn't _I_ in it?"

As one, the fascinated spectators turned to look at an astonished man with one eye, as he began to babble in his defense the first things that came to mind, "Hey, I mentioned your message charms, and, uh, yeah, I could have had you on the _Sunnydale_ lying on your deck chair, sipping at a margarita and using your magic to bring a wind into that ship's sails, but you know how easily you burn and remember that traveling carnival when we were eight and we went on the kiddie boat ride and the operator swore he'd never seen anyone else but you get seasick on it, and I was also kinda mad at you for yelling at me when I told you about a new Slayer there, and look, I was just making it all up as I went along!"

Trying to comprehend everything Xander had just gibbered in a single sentence, the others in the room were then shocked at seeing how Willow's red hair now blazed in an actual scarlet radiance, with her eyes also glowing a brilliant green, as that Wiccan now manifested the magic of the most powerful witch in the world. Getting onto her feet from the couch, Willow kept rising, floating upwards in the air until the top of her head was only a few inches from the sitting room's ceiling, as a thunderous voice now shook the entire space, rattling pictures on the walls and causing the floor to tremble.

"YOU FORGOT ME."

Xander cringed back on the tigerskin rug, his arms falling away from around Buffy and Dawn, as his remaining eye widened with horror while Willow began to drift forward until she was now hovering directly over him, looking down at him with those terrifying radiant orbs of pure emerald, even as another deafening statement then rumbled throughout the sitting room.

"ALEXANDER LAVELLE, HARRIS, YOU MUST BE PUNISHED FOR THAT."

Glancing at each other over Xander's chest, Buffy and Dawn instantly came to the same decision, and immediately rolled away from that prone man, as in the next second, Willow turned off her magic and abruptly dropped to the floor. That descending woman moved her feet apart so that these parts of her body landed next to the sides of Xander's hips, but that Sunnydale native had no time to thank his lucky stars, since Willow now relaxed her legs to fall, knees first, right onto Xander's stomach.

"_Guuuhhh!_" whoofed Xander, every molecule of air in his lungs exploding out from his mouth, as he jerked his upper body forward in agony, nearly nose-to-nose to a smirking Willow kneeling on him, who now shoved Xander back onto the rug, as her fingers then went to their sadistic work, aiming at every one of his weak points, especially under his ribs, as this woman began to mercilessly tickle him.

Gazing open-mouthed as Buffy and Dawn also dove onto the duo lying on the tigerskin rug to gleefully join in the man's torment, Faith sitting crosslegged in front of her armchair now twisted her head to stare at Giles still on the couch. The man calmly watching his children at their play became aware of this, and allowing a faint smile on his features, the Englishman now flicked his fingers in benign permission towards the struggling figures on the floor whooping, giggling, and shouting "Uncle! Uncle, dammit!" A wide grin blossomed on Faith's lips, and gathering her legs under herself, she also leapt across the room onto the others.

A few minutes later, an exhausted Xander was again on his back on the rug, with this time having a redhead snuggled up against his side, her arms so tightly around him that the man could barely breathe in Willow's hug. Buffy and Dawn were also back on his outstretched arms, and Faith was lying perpendicular to the man, her head resting upon his crossed ankles while the beautiful woman was idly running a finger up and down his left lower leg. Dawn was innocently digging the toe of her shoe into Faith's ribs every time that Slayer's finger reached Xander's knee and showed signs of traveling further upwards. That man himself was then distracted by Willow's soft voice speaking into his ear. "I missed you so much, Xan."

Looking down from his right eye into the mass of red hair pressed up against the left side of his face, Xander blinked, and protested, "I wasn't gone that long in Sweden-"

"Not just there. Africa, too, and further back, even in Sunnydale. I missed my cheerful, funny friend, with all his wild and wacky stories, who I thought was gone forever," sniffled Willow, as the others listened, and silently agreed.

Xander opened his mouth to deny this, and then he closed it again, to think that over, until he slowly admitted, "Yeah, but you know why. I- I'd seen too much, gone through too much. That guy that I was back in my hometown, I couldn't be him any more. So, I became someone else, who was needed. Until….someone else needed me, to be what I was before, that I thought I'd lost. Well, I found him again, and…um, I can't promise you he'll be back all the time, but I won't send him away again. Okay, Wils?"

With a squeal of delight, Willow hugged Xander even harder, as Buffy and Dawn also contributed their own happy hugs for their blood brother. On his couch listening to this, Rupert Giles broadly beamed in his secret pleasure, with that man then looking a bit startled at Xander's sudden muffled squawk of astonishment. The four people on the tigerskin rug then shifted apart, to look down Xander's body at Faith there smirking at them all even as she pulled back her hand that she'd just used to express her own gratification in a contented grope while Dawn had been distracted. Before anybody could actually yell at the vulgar Slayer, that woman then cheerfully asked, "So, when do we get to meet the kid?"

Even as they glared at Faith, Buffy, Dawn, and Willow enthusiastically echoed that brunette's question, "Yeah, when?"

"What?" blinked Xander at the females there all eagerly looking back at him, until he was distracted by the other man in the sitting room.

Rupert Giles momentarily looked thoughtful, until he announced, "I'll need a day to transfer my responsibilities, so I'm sure we can all leave the day after tomorrow. That'll also allow me sufficient time to start the search for her father, though I really would like to give our researchers more information than 'somewhere in the South Seas.'"

"No problem, Giles," joyously said Willow as she grinned into Xander's astonished face. "Once I meet with Pippi and get some hair or blood samples, I think I can narrow it further down for you with my magic."

Finally managing to again speak, Xander now spluttered, "But- I didn't- You don't have- OW!"

A finger possessing Slayer strength poking him hard in his ribs had just caused that startled yelp from Xander, as he now listened to Buffy Summers laying down the law as the rest of their group firmly nodded in agreement. "Xander Harris, you just brought a new Scooby into the gang. You really think we're going to pass up a chance to meet Pippi Longstocking?"

* * *

Author's Note: Now that the story's over, join me in a sing-along while holding your tankards up high:

_Fifteen men on a dead man's chest  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.  
__Drink and the devil had done for the rest  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_The mate was fixed by the bosun's pike  
__The bosun brained with a marlinspike  
__And cookey's throat was marked belike  
__It had been gripped by fingers ten;  
__And there they lay, all good dead men  
__Like break o'day in a boozing ken  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_Fifteen men of the whole ship's list  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
__Dead and be damned and the rest gone whist!  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!_

_The skipper lay with his nob in gore  
__Where the scullion's axe his cheek had shore  
__And the scullion he was stabbed times four  
__And there they lay, and the soggy skies  
__Dripped down in up-staring eyes  
__In murk sunset and foul sunrise  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_Fifteen men of 'em stiff and stark  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
__Ten of the crew had the murder mark!  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!_

_'Twas a cutlass swipe or an ounce of lead  
__Or a yawing hole in a battered head  
__And the scuppers' glut with a rotting red  
__And there they lay, aye, damn my eyes  
__Looking up at paradise  
__All souls bound just contrawise  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_Fifteen men of 'em good and true  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!  
__Ev'ry man jack could ha' sailed with Old Pew,  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!_

_There was chest on chest of Spanish gold  
__With a ton of plate in the middle hold  
__And the cabins riot of stuff untold,  
__And they lay there that took the plum  
__With sightless glare and their lips struck dumb  
__While we shared all by the rule of thumb,  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!_

_More was seen through a sternlight screen..  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.  
__Chartings undoubt where a woman had been  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_'Twas a flimsy shift on a bunker cot  
__With a dirk slit sheer through the bosom spot  
__And the lace stiff dry in a purplish blot  
__Oh was she wench or some shudderin' maid  
__That dared the knife and took the blade  
__By God! she had stuff for a plucky jade  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_Fifteen men on a dead man's chest  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum.  
__Drink and the devil had done for the rest  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum._

_We wrapped 'em all in a mains'l tight  
__With twice ten turns of a hawser's bight  
__And we heaved 'em over and out of sight,  
__With a Yo-Heave-Ho! and a fare-you-well  
__And a sudden plunge in the sullen swell  
__Ten fathoms deep on the road to hell,  
__Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!_


End file.
